


So Fair a Gift

by potentiality_26



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: It had been a couple of weeks- all right, three weeks and a day- since Eggsy saw the man first.  Eggsy didn’t often look at the audience- it was distracting and unprofessional- but on that particular night Eggsy just happened to glance over and therehewas, sitting in the front row with this incredibly intense look on his face.  He was well fit, wearing a tuxedo that hugged his broad shoulders and surprisingly slim waist just as tightly as Eggsy would rather like to, with faintly greying hair and these dark,darkeyes.Eggsy is getting a little tired of waiting for a certain someone to introduce himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short AU I wrote a while ago and then forgot about. It's (loosely) based on a prompt from [this post:](http://jemmamaximoff.tumblr.com/post/144052639418/random-au-prompts) “I am a ballet dancer and I see you every time I perform in the first row and there are flowers in my room every time I perform when will you finally introduce yourself” AU. I've done a lot of theater but very little dance, so I may be making some incorrect assumptions. The title is from, "Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night” from Phantom of the Opera, because of course I went there.
> 
> Not Brit-picked.

“He was there again tonight,” Eggsy told Roxy after the curtain call.  She looked at him for a long moment, grunted, and then said something into her headset.  Eggsy continued on his way to the dressing rooms; there was nothing else for him to do if Roxy wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.  _Him_. 

It had been a couple of weeks- all right, three weeks and a day- since Eggsy saw the man first.  Eggsy didn’t often look at the audience- it was distracting and unprofessional- but on that particular night Eggsy just happened to glance over and there _he_ was, sitting in the front row with this incredibly intense look on his face.  He was well fit, wearing a tuxedo that hugged his broad shoulders and surprisingly slim waist just as tightly as Eggsy would rather like to, with faintly greying hair and these dark, _dark_ eyes. 

Eggsy didn’t get all that from one glance the man’s way, of course. That one glance had mainly just told Eggsy that a) hot and b) definitely looking at him like the prettiest slice of cake on the dessert table.  He’d spent some time primping after the performance and hung around way later than he normally did, sure that this man was going to come by and introduce himself.  You didn’t get such good seats- even this late in the run- without knowing _someone_ , and it should’ve been easy enough for him to get that someone to introduce him to Eggsy- but he never came.  Eggsy was still incredibly disappointed not to have gotten a clear look at all that by the next day’s performance- when he happened to glance over and see the guy again, this time right before intermission.  That time, Eggsy was positive he was going to get a visit, but he never did.

So the doubts started creeping in.  Maybe this guy looked at everybody he saw on stage that way.  That started to seem more likely with every performance he attended.  Eggsy noticed him earlier and earlier, and little by little he gave up on the idea that they were ever going to meet.  Obviously something had inspired this man to see every performance they’d given since Eggsy noticed him- but if that something was Eggsy he clearly didn’t plan on doing anything about it.

Eggsy was... besotted, or at least that was what Roxy called it.  He wanted to argue, because 'besotted' was an awfully strong word for a guy he'd never met and didn’t know much more about than a) hot and b) _possibly_ looking at him like the prettiest slice of cake on the dessert table.  But.  Well-

Roxy wasn’t wrong.  Looking out into the audience was still distracting and unprofessional, but Eggsy felt like he danced better when this guy was watching.  And it wasn’t just a feeling either; everyone said he had really upped his game lately.  Eggsy only allowed himself one look each night, but as time went on he started to feel like he could sense those eyes following him through the whole performance, and they felt... really good.  Like a grounding hand or a feather-light caress, down his neck or at the small of his back or across the line of his leg. 

So yeah, Eggsy had been disappointed- and maybe a little hurt- when at the last performance of the previous week the guy hadn’t been there.  And yeah, he had looked for him a little desperately tonight, and found him with a relief disproportionate to the sight of a perfect stranger in the audience.  

“You’re an idiot,” Eggsy told himself, viciously, when he got to his dressing room and started to change back into his street clothes.  “What are you gonna fucking do when the show closes?”

Eggsy asked himself that question a lot these days.

He heard a knock at the door and opened it to find Roxy on the other side.  “What’s up?” he asked. 

She cleared her throat and jerked her head to the right.

Eggsy opened the door the rest of the way and there _he_ was, leaning against the opposite wall.  He had on this deep blue jacket that Eggsy wanted to touch desperately, not least because it was poured over a chest that was every bit as broad and appealing-looking up close as it seemed from a distance. 

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Roxy declared, and just like that she was gone. 

For a moment Eggsy just hung, stupidly, in the doorway.  For a moment the guy just watched him in return.  Those eyes- always intense- were _heavy_ as they skimmed across Eggsy's face.  “This is a bit awkward,” the man said at last.

"You noticed that too?” Eggsy said, hoping to lighten the mood.  His voice came out horribly strangled. 

“If I’d known I was visiting a performer tonight, I would’ve brought flowers.”

The guy’s mouth quirked, so he had a sense of humor at least.  That was good.  He also couldn’t have made it more clear that Roxy had dragged him down here, which was less good.  Eggsy had just decided to put them both out of their misery and let the guy go when he heard himself saying, “You wanna come in?”

The guy’s mouth twisted even further.  “We haven’t even been introduced.”

Eggsy braced one hand in the doorway and stretched the other out for the guy to shake.  “I’m Eggsy Unwin.”  He wasn’t saying anything the guy wouldn’t already know from the show's programs and even the dressing room door he was currently standing next to, but politeness would likely prompt a reciprocal introduction, and whatever other awkwardness this whole thing had brought Eggsy would at least have a name.

“Harry Hart.”  His hands were big and his handshake was warm and firm without being crushing or weird.

“Nice to meet you,” Eggsy said, meaning it way too much.  He had always thought... Eggsy didn’t know what he had thought.  In the imaginings that he had always cradled close to his chest, though, there had been a bit of fawning, a bit of _I can’t tell you how I’ve longed to me you_ , of _you must know that I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you_.  He wasn’t the type to put out on the first date, let alone the first introduction, but sometimes over the last few weeks- all right, not just sometimes, _all_ the times- his fantasies had rather prominently featured this particular man pressing him up against the make-up table while their eyes locked in the mirror.  These had been some of the hottest fantasies of Eggsy’s life. 

The truth was that Eggsy didn’t want to lose them.  He’d told Roxy, told himself, that he was frustrated by the lack of introduction, of explanation- but now that Harry was here Eggsy knew he’d actually been glad of it, because he’d been able to fill that absence with a story in which a handsome and polished and- let’s be honest- _rich_ man was head over heels for him.  But Eggsy had already known that it was just as likely that that was just how this man looked when he watched ballet, that he really didn’t care much at all, that Eggsy was just a kid who loved to dance, who’d gotten a part that was way too big for him mainly because Merlin felt sorry for him, and anyone who had been at this many performances had to _know_ it. 

“So,” Eggsy said, burying all that under a crooked grin.  “Do you wanna come in, Harry Hart?”       

Harry just looked at him for a long moment.  His fingers were still wrapped around Eggsy’s.  He swept his thumb across the back of Eggsy’s hand and said, “Yes.”

Eggsy opened the door wider and let Harry follow him inside.  Eggsy was glad to have secured him for a bit longer, but the moment the door closed behind Harry he began to second guess himself.  He was keenly aware of his own half-dressed state and the fact that Harry was only here because Roxy had made him come.  He could feel the weight of Harry’s eyes on him as he started looking for a shirt.  “So, what’s your story?” he said.

“My story?” Eggsy glanced Harry’s way and saw him leaning his back against the door, frowning.  “Merlin and I know each other from long ago.  He saves tickets for me.  I don’t always make it, but lately I have.”

For a second, Eggsy was too mad at his director for pretending not to know who Eggsy was talking about whenever he mentioned Harry to think about what Harry was saying.  But then he did, and he thought that argument might have passed muster if he hadn’t gone to every single performance save one since Eggsy had noticed him.  That was too much for someone who just liked the ballet, too much for someone who ‘couldn’t always make it.’  “Maybe that was it for a while,” Eggsy said.  “But that don’t explain the phantom of the opera routine.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “The what?”

“You know, ‘I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five’- best seats in the house or there’s hell to pay?"  Eggsy hesitated.  "Don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Harry blinked rapidly.  “No- no I understood the reference.”

“You just didn’t think it was funny.”  Suddenly Eggsy felt like he was actually saying _you just don’t think_ I’m _funny_.  Suddenly he wasn't sure if he was teasing this man or baiting him. 

“No, I-” Harry looked stricken.  “I think you’re charming.”

There was something painfully earnest in his tone, and Eggsy felt bad for goading him.  He also felt bad for doubting.  All this time, he had _known_ Harry was watching him.  Why did he always let himself doubt?

Harry sighed, passing his thumb over his eyebrow.  “I should-”

"Ask me to dinner,” Eggsy said.

“Leave,” Harry said at the same time. 

They both stopped short, but it was Harry who finally said, “What?” with that stricken look back on his face.

Eggsy took a breath.  He finally had the t-shirt he had been looking for in his hands, but he thought pulling it over his head would ruin the effect he was going for.  He tossed it aside, figuring Harry had seen him in a skin tight leotard enough times not to find much about his body mysterious.  Eggsy had never felt so close to naked up there as he did when he had Harry’s eyes on him.  “You should ask me to dinner.”  He took another breath.  “Look, if you just want to watch the shows and then just disappear back under the Paris opera house or whatever, that’s your business.  You don’t owe me nothing.  But I’ve watched you watching me for such a long time now, and I think that if you want to ask me to dinner, you should ask me to fucking dinner.”  

Harry just stared at Eggsy for a long moment, long enough that Eggsy wondered if he should try to take it back but ultimately held firm.  Finally Harry said, “May I conclude, then, that your references to the phantom of the opera do not mean you find me repulsive?”

It was Eggsy’s turn to stare for a moment.  He wasn’t sure if Harry was joking or not.  Someone as attractive as Harry, Eggsy would have thought, had to _know_ it.  But... up close he was a bit older than Eggsy had thought.  He had little spiderwebs of wrinkles around his eyes and a lumpy softness about his throat.  And there was a scar at his temple, pale and faded but also ropy-looking beside otherwise smooth skin.  Maybe he was half-joking, then.  Maybe he could know that he was handsome and tease Eggsy for implying that he wasn’t- but also worry that Eggsy wouldn’t be interested in him at the same time.  Eggsy shook his head.  “No.”  He swallowed.  “I definitely don’t.”

“Well, then.”  Harry's eyes were stuck for a moment to Eggsy’s throat, but then he dragged them back up to meet Eggsy’s eyes.  “Will you have dinner with me?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said.  "I will."

Harry ducked his head, looking happy.

Eggsy's gut lurched pleasantly.  He decided to finish getting dressed.  He retrieved his t-shirt, pulled it over his head, and turned to get the rest of his stuff.  “Tonight?” he asked, when he realized he might be wrong in assuming that Harry intended to take him out now.  Eggsy normally got dinner after a show, but maybe Harry had already-

“Certainly,” Harry said.  “Where do you usually go?”

“McDonalds,” Eggsy replied.  He turned around and just stopped.  In the momentary glow of knowing that Harry was interested in him after all, it had been easy to forget that they were strangers.  That Harry was polished and handsome and older and dressed to the nines, that his perfect suit formed a sharp contrast to Eggsy’s threadbare t-shirt.  Harry looked like someone who had never been to a McDonalds in his life- and Eggsy looked like someone who got kicked out of the kind of places Harry probably went to.  “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

Eggsy regretted the words a second later.  Harry had only come this far because Eggsy had led him.  If he turned back now...

But to Eggsy's surprise, Harry reached out and took both Eggsy’s hands in his.  “What I told you a moment ago was the truth, but not the whole truth.  I... used to be a dancer, but I had to quit.  For a long time, I wouldn't see so much as a single performance."

Eggsy's eyes flicked back to the scar on Harry's temple.  "Is that where you got- I mean, did you get in an accident?"

"Oh, no," Harry said, eyes widening with surprise.  "Or rather yes, I did- a few years ago- but it's nothing to do with why I stopped dancing.  Time simply wasn't kind to me- or at least to my joints.  But when I woke up after the accident and the doctors told me I almost lost my eye, I decided that I was done letting bitterness cut me off from something I loved.  But even then, the last show I was in before I quit... that one I never saw."

“That’s this show, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  I don’t know what made me change my mind this year, but when I saw you I was glad I did.  I hope you know how remarkable you are up there.  Watching you... I felt more than admiration or appreciation.  At first, I thought it must be envy.  That you were young and vibrant and you could dance like that when I couldn’t.  That you were quite possibly better than I ever was.  So I came back again, to see if I was right.  But it wasn’t envy.  It was fascination- and attraction.  I thought that if watching you dance was the closest I would ever get to having you, I would watch you for as long as I could.  But I began to feel foolish, so I tested myself and didn't attend one last week.  I felt so... bereft.  Your friend may have dragged me down here tonight, but I would have come on my own eventually.  I want to get to know you, Eggsy.  I want to see if there could _be_ something between us.  May I try?”

Eggsy squeezed Harry’s hands.  “Yeah.”  He met Harry’s eyes, so full of affection and hope.  “So what happens now?”

“Now we go to dinner.  At McDonalds, if we must.”

Eggsy felt his lips twitching upward at the humor and resignation in Harry’s voice.  He just knew that he could become so very, very fond of this man. “And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I’ll come and see you perform.  And I’ll bring flowers.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said, grinning all out now.  “That sounds... that sounds really good.”

Still holding Eggsy’s hands, Harry smiled back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/).


End file.
